


Dragonborn's Proving

by Churchrot



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-04-25 08:56:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14375385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Churchrot/pseuds/Churchrot
Summary: Inga, a total outsider to Nirn, gets caught up in the Dragon Crisis of Skyrim with no recollection of her past. Revealed to be Dragonborn, she has a terrifying and dangerous road ahead of her, but someone even more terrifying and dangerous than the dragons is seeking to participate in this historical event. But does he really need a Dragonborn by his side to complete his mission?





	1. Unbound

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic, one I have been kind of wanting to make for years now! The main character here is a semi-self-insert, in that she is largely based on my Legendary difficulty roleplaying run of the game where literally everything was scary. Even though she is definitely from our version of Earth, I will strive to keep that as a minimal part of her character and instead focus on just about everything else. Also, thanks to my boyfriend for sitting through the cringe and proofreading this for me!

It was the morning of Morndas, the 17th of Last Seed, 4E201, when the prophecies foretold by the Elder Scrolls were finally set in motion. The final piece of the ages-old puzzle fell into place, and so, the rise of the dragon would begin. 

She had been found slumped to the cold, frosted grass and moss by a couple of Stormcloak scouts. A young female human, a total outsider not only to Skyrim, but to Nirn as well. She was entirely unconscious, and not long after discovering her, the Stormcloak scouts and the rest of their party were ambushed by the Imperial army, and taken prisoner, ready to meet their end at the chopping block in the town of Helgen.

Slowly rocked back to consciousness by the prison carriage, Inga quickly realized that she was bound by her wrists and that she was cold in her sleeveless shirt, goosebumps rising all across her bare arms. 

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake. Trying to cross the border, right?” a blond, rough-looking man in front of her said. _What border?_ Before she managed to come up with a response, the man continued talking.

“Got caught up in that Imperial ambush, the same as us, and that thief over there.” Looking around, she saw that she was indeed held a prisoner with a bunch of men, for reasons entirely unknown to her. Questions began to quickly flood her mind, most of them very worried ones. _Where am I? Why am I among these men? Why was I trying to cross a border…? To where? Where exactly am I right now?_ Inga considered herself the kind of person who would have her shit together, but this was quickly being proven false: she was scared, confused and lost. 

“You there, you and me, we shouldn’t be here,” another, much thinner man called out for her attention. It snapped her out of her ever-escalating internal ramblings. “It’s the Stormcloaks the Empire wants.” _Stormcloaks? The Empire?_

“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.” _For what though? And why me too?_

Indeed, what was she doing here? Inga had absolutely no recollection of any moments prior to waking up on this carriage, no real idea of who she was, either. The snowy evergreen trees felt familiar, but she had never been to or seen these parts of the woods before.

What caught her attention were the mountains. She had never seen any before, as far as she could recall. Somehow, they felt larger than Inga had ever imagined them to be, and so very beautiful, with snow-covered tops and all! Followed by the woods, her focus shifted to the approaching cobblestone walls and towers. _A fortress, maybe?_

“General Tullius, sir! The headman’s waiting!” _… The WHAT now?_ If Inga was merely a bit worried before, her panic was quickly rising off the charts now. _I have done nothing illegal! As far as I know! They have no reason nor right to be… I’m gonna…_ It didn’t help her anxiety that the thief began to blabber very nervously too now, listing a bunch of divines she had never heard of before. Entering through the stony arch, her situation somehow became real now. 

_I could very well die here today. But! I will explain my situation to them properly, say that I have no idea who these men are, and that I have not been up to anything illegal. But what if they ask what I actually have been up to, when I do not know either. What if I actually WAS doing something to break the law? But surely nothing so severe as to make me deserving of a death sentence?_

Inga had forgotten about her cold a long time ago, but the binds around her hands felt all the more present. Coming to a clearing, her attention was fully drawn to the hooded figure holding a massive axe, next to a little stone block and a wooden head-box next to it. _They were not kidding, people are going to get executed here. Oh, why would they have been kidding?_ A man ushered a young boy to go inside their house to not see what was going to happen. _Oh no._

“End of the line.”

As the horse-carriages finally stopped and everyone was required to stand up and get off on the ground, Inga’s legs felt like pudding, numb and and light. Her head was both full of thoughts and also empty at the same time; her conscious thought stopped. The names of the men before her were called, each going to the chopping block in turn. With each passing person, she could feel the cold sweat cling to her neck, her stomach tying itself up in a knot, her mouth drying up. 

The thief was trying to make a case for his innocence, but he decided to try and run off rather than talk his way out. A woman clad in shiny metal armor, strict and stoic in presence, called for archers. Inga turned her gaze down before she even had time to think of what was going to happen, instinctually. 

“Wait, you there. Step forward.”

As she did, Inga looked up to the gentle looking man on the right side of the armored woman, and quickly caught the image of the skinny man laying on the ground, unmoving, before trying with all her willpower not to focus on it. _I’m innocent, I need to tell him that. I’m sure he will understand._

“Who are you?” 

“I’m… Inga, sir,” she barely mustered the words to say as much, feeling like she was choking on the oppressive air around her. It was a miracle a sound even got out of her. 

“Captain, what should we do? She’s not on the list.” _I know! I know I know I know I…_

“Forget the list, she goes to the block.”

Her heart stopped, and her mind went blank.

“By your orders, captain. I’m sorry, at least you’ll die in your homeland,” the man said, apologetic for this turn of events. “Follow the captain, prisoner.”

_I am going to die here today._

“Bu… but…” she muttered, it was all she could get out. The man turned away from her and the captain, clearly not hearing her, strode towards the chopping block, with no concern for anything. Business as usual. Looking up, Inga’s gaze was caught by the thief’s corpse again, now lying in a pool of blood, glittering in the morning sun. She swallowed, and followed the woman, not wanting to meet a similar end. _What difference would it really even make?_

She was lined up with all the other prisoners, ready for the execution, as ready as a person can ever be. One of the prisoners, better dressed than the others and gagged, was given a speech of his own by what seemed to be the man organizing this whole “event”. _General T-something._ Inga had no idea what any of this was about, and at this point, she couldn’t muster the willpower to think. Her eyes and throat burned, there was a pit in her stomach, and yet, she didn’t feel like much at all. She wanted to cry, but none of the other people around her did. _Why aren’t they crying?_ She couldn’t bear to be the only person sobbing, but no matter how hard she tried, several rogue tears fell across her cheeks anyway.

A hooded woman citing a rite was cut off by one of the prisoners, “For the love of Talos, shut up, and let’s get this over with!” Just like that, he walked to the chopping block, eager to have at least some control over his own death. He didn’t fear the inevitable; he faced it. As he was pushed to the block, he even seemed to look the executioner in the eyes.

“My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?” Inga envied that man. She felt like she should have confidence like that, the ability to go down with dignity. As the hooded man lifted his axe, ready to strike down, Inga turned her face away. With what seemed like the longest handful of seconds in her life, a _‘thunk!’_ could finally be heard. The prisoners around her gasped, and some bystanders yelled encouragements and insults. 

“As fearless in death, as he was in life,” the gruffy blonde man beside her said. Devoid of emotion, such as fear or loss. No, not entirely true, he said it _reverence._

“Next! The Nord in the rags!” Inga finally looked up, not realizing how strained by tension her neck had become even in such short time. She saw the headless corpse of the brave man, really seeing a dead body up close for the first time. In the distance, the thief’s body might as well have been a small deer or something; her eyesight was too poor to really discern it as a human, had she not already known what it was. No, _who_ it was. But now, it was all the more real, and she felt the urge to vomit, and her tears were no longer held back at all. In the same heartbeat, she realized that the captain was distracted by something, but moved her gaze to Inga. It was her turn.

_End of the line._

Seeing the impatience on the woman’s face, she took wobbly steps forward, like a cow obeying their owner as it was led to the slaughter. There were a lot of people to execute here today, and it occurred to Inga that the small wooden box for the heads would in no way fit everyone’s without them rolling off of one another and spilling out onto the ground. They hadn’t even moved the corpse of the previous victim, and with every step forward she got closer to the corpse, every single part of her body demanding her to turn heel and run. 

She walked forward out of obedience, not because she was here to claim her own death. In that, she realized the futility of her whole existence; a piece of meat, about to die, because someone decided so and she didn’t have the guts to disagree.

If she could get another chance, she would change that. She would be someone who held her life in her own hands, who could spit in the face of death, because she had nothing to regret. 

So caught up in her own mind, Inga kneeled at the chopping block, without even a thought. Feeling the heavy metallic boot against her back, she was pushed against the block. The feeling of cold, wet blood against her cheek, its bitter copper smell, brought her back to reality. She could see the axe being raised, and she closed her eyes. She wouldn’t look death in the face, she didn’t want her last sight to be that of a falling blade. But she couldn’t bring her to see anything with her mind’s eye that would have made for a better sight. She didn’t see her life flashing before her eyes, there was only the void of her own shut eyelids, and relentless anxiety. 

In the darkness, she could hear an exchange: _“What in Oblivion is that!?” - - “Sentries, what do you see?” - - “It’s in the clouds!”_

“A DRAGON!”

Feeling a massive tremor in the ground and her ears pierced by a woman’s scream, her eyes snapped open, seeing the headsman fallen to his knees in front of her. Looking up, she saw it.

A black dragon, as real as her fear of death.

It let out a soundless roar, a massive blast of air that knocked the headsman over and pushed her off of the block, her cheek scraping against the bloody stone. The skies turned dark, bringing along a cold wind that brought feeling back to her body, reminding her of that she was still alive. She remembered her binds again, as she was trying to get up, trying to get herself upright. 

“Hey, you, get up! Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance!” Inga could feel a strong pair of hands grab and lift her off the ground on her feet, pleased to see that it was the blond prisoner from earlier. He motioned her to follow him towards a tower, and she jogged along, her balance entirely off and her legs weak like wet noodles. 

Making it to the tower, she finally got a second to breathe, process and try to get herself back together. _I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive… This is a second chance unlike anything I will ever get again!_ Adrenaline pumping in her veins, her body still light from all the anxiety slowly fading away (before the anxiety of the present situation could sneak its way in), Inga felt _strong_. Powerful, like she somehow had gained control over her fate, that this was the turn she needed. _I will make it alive from here, and I will live a worthwhile life._

The man who got her up approached her with a knife, offering to remove the bindings. Feeling the leather straps fall off of her wrists, it was the final piece she felt she needed for complete, total freedom. Before she had time to say thanks, or anything more elaborate than that, the man was running off up the stairs of the tower, asking her to follow suit. Inga was not an athletic person, but going up the stairs had never felt easier; like every stride she took got her closer to away from all this. 

All this was taken away along the air from her lungs, as a piece of the tower’s wall blasted off, square on her chest. For a mere moment, she could feel the nauseating sensation of having nothing below her feet, falling backwards. 

Before her reflexes had time to really react, she felt a heavy slam on the back of her head, a white light blinding her vision, and she blacked out, all in an instant. 

* * *

_I am alive because that one is dead._

_I exist because I have the will to do so._

From a long slumber, the champion awakens. The ages-old mantra of his mistress driving the blood to course in his veins again, his lungs to draw in a sharp breath, his claw-tipped fingers scratching against the stony surface below him with such force that their undersides bled, being almost torn off. 

Pain like that was insignificant, but nevertheless, a reminder of the only absolute truth of this world; that the moment one ceases to feel it, their own body’s small warnings, they are not proving that they deserve the existence they have been granted. To feel that pain is to know you are still around, still undefeated, still hunting. And he had been resting too long, his existence becoming forfeit with every moment longer spent like this. 

“My champion,” a voice boomed in his head, “the World Eater has arrived.”

_So he has._

_But so have I._


	2. Bonds

Inga came to her consciousness feeling like she had been heavily drugged. Her head was fuzzy with the kind of “black noise” one might get when standing up too fast. She could feel the blood pumping in her head, as if being close to bursting. After a short moment though it all passed, and she was feeling at ease, as if she had woken up after a good night of restful sleep. She didn’t recall any dreams.

Rolling to her side and opening her eyes, Inga realized that she was in a small, dim room, with wood-panel walls and floors, a closet and a chest at the foot-side of the bed she rested on, and a small bedside drawer to her right. The only light source was a candle set on the table, with a small plate of foods beside it. 

Sitting upright, she took a better look at the food, and instantly realized how hungry she actually was. The meal was very modest, with two boiled potatoes, and a bit of grilled leeks, but having not eaten for who knows how long, she was salivating at them. Picking up a fork and breaking a potato apart to eat it, Inga realized that the food must have been there for while; it was really cold. That was hardly an issue though, and she dug into her meal eagerly.

_Wonder how I got from that tower to here, anyway? I did hit my head pretty bad…_

Feeling the back of her head, Inga was stunned to notice that there wasn’t even a scratch! Maybe she had severely overestimated her fall, then? In any case, she wasn’t feeling bad, so she hadn’t gotten a concussion, either, so she was actually beginning to feel better and better about her new situation.

 _Suppose the world wanted me to get out of that town and survive and do something good with my life after all!_ Feeling the first pangs of survivor’s guilt, she had the sense in her to brush it off and not worry over things she had no power over. _I didn’t survive for any reason at all, it was by pure chance, and chances are, I wasn’t even the only one. I guess I might have gotten lucky, getting knocked out in the tower rather than going outside and getting killed by that dragon._

Still, Inga couldn’t help but feel her appetite slowly fade away as the images of the human corpses started to flow back. The memories weren’t clear, nor did they focus much on how she was feeling at the time, they were just… very somber, numbing. Leaving one of the potatoes uneaten, she figured that it was about the high time she got up and found the person who picked her up from the tower, to thank them for that and the meal. It would also give her an excuse to focus on something else. Getting up from the bed, Inga noticed she was still wearing the rags she had on when she was held captive. Taking a second to smell herself, she realized she was in a desperate need to get washed, but until then, she’d just have to hold her arms against her sides and not get too close to anyone.

Opening the door of her room, she was greeted by a very well lit room in a similar style to her own; with a lot of dining tables, a _huge_ fireplace in the center, and a counter on her left. Somewhere in her right she could hear music playing, which was pretty pleasant. Feeling the grime of her previous thoughts fade off entirely, she approached the man behind the counter.

“Hey there, slept well?” the tall, somewhat tired-looking dark-haired man called out, and Inga smiled back, the normality of this whole situation making her feel even better.

“I did, and thanks for the food,” Inga chimed back, feeling somewhat embarrassed now for not finishing her plate. 

“Ah, I’d entirely forgotten about that. Hope you didn’t mind it not being the freshest,” the man said, obviously not really all that sorry about it, but out of politeness, if nothing else. 

“Oh no, it was absolutely fine!” she shook her head and dismissed the apology with a wave, as she had the habit of talking with her whole body. “But, uh… I do not have anything on me with which to pay you.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house. Business may not be booming, but we wouldn’t have the heart to charge anything from one of the few survivor of what went down in Helgen. Three of you, exactly.”

_One of the few? So there were only three of us? Oh…_ Guilt raised its ugly head from her subconscious again. 

“Only three…?”

“Well, as far as we know. Hadvar, Alvor’s nephew, was thankfully among them. The other survivor, I can’t remember his name, had carried you all the way here from there, and the two have been off searching the ruins for anyone else for a few hours now. Who knows, perhaps someone might still turn up.” 

Inga didn’t really have anything to add to that. She would have to find these men and thank them for saving her, but she was also worried that this would make them all into criminals on the run. Then again, nobody there knew her and she didn’t know anybody either, so she could lie and say that she just happened to be visiting the place at a bad time.

“Anyway, welcome to the Sleeping Giant Inn. I’m Orgnar, but this place’s owned by Delphine. How about you, who are you?” Inga gave the man a weird look, unintentionally, as being questioned like that brought her straight back to the moment she received her death sentence.

“Hey, for the sole fact that you are one of the few survivors, I will not ask about those prisoner’s rags. This is all for accounting, do not give me that kind of a look,” Orgnar warned, and Inga’s features softened immediately.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t, I just… It’s Inga. My name, I mean.”

“Just Inga? Alright, suit yourself.”

There was no denying that her whole situation would come across as very shady to anyone with half a mind, but she did appreciate not being questioned about it, as she had yet to come up with a realistic alibi. She could be honest and say that she genuinely has no idea what is going on anywhere around her, but nobody would believe that. She had never seen mountains, dragons or real death before; this land was strange to her in just about every sense.

Orgnar’s attention was turned away from her to someone else coming to the inn. Inga turned to look too, and she felt her heart leap into her throat seeing the same man that had been there for her execution. The same man who tried to make a case for her innocence, but still… _I had almost died for no reason, and he did not object._ Their eyes met, and he immediately averted his gaze. _He doesn’t dare to look at me._

With him, there was another man, one that Inga could not recall seeing at the execution. He was huge, darker skinned in comparison to everyone else she had seen so far, his long black hair worn in a messy loose knot of thick dreads and his face almost _bestial_ , in a way. Inga had never seen anyone like him before, and now she had to avert her gaze, so as not to stare. The man caught her gaze, and simply gave a quick, tusked smile back, before returning his focus to Orgnar. 

“There was no one else left,” he said in a coarse bassy voice, exactly the kind you would expect someone like him to have. Orgnar simply nodded solemnly, and chose to go and start cleaning some tables. _So it was true, we are the only survivors of the dragon assault._ Before Inga had the time to really dwell on the thought, the huge man crouched down a bit to be on eye level with her, smiling a faint, gentle smile.

“Good to see you awake and able to stand. I was worried with that head damage you had taken that you wouldn’t make it,” he turned his eyes to the other man beside him, “lucky thing that Hadvar had found healing potions for first aid, no bandaging skills would have kept you from spilling your brains on the road from Helgen to here!” He gave a modest laugh, but seemed to quickly realize that his joke was a bit insensitive, and his face turned a tad more severe; studying Inga’s face for reactions. Inga chose to laugh, because it felt good, this company felt good, and she was rather happy about knowing that she could forgive Hadvar for his compliance with the captain’s orders. _I am an obeyer, too, I can’t really blame him for taking the easy way out._ Seeing her take well to his small joke, the bigger guy also visibly relaxed. 

“I’m Inga, very pleased to meet both of you,” she said gleefully, turning her face to Hadvar, “and I do think we ought to be introduced to one another, eh?” Hadvar finally found it in himself to look at Inga, studying her eyes carefully for any lingering blame; he couldn’t find any, so he finally let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

“I’m… very thankful you made it. You didn’t deserve to die out there. The name’s Hadvar, and... I…”

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it! I think we are all quite ready to leave all that within those stone walls,” Inga cut in, not wanting Hadvar to roll in self-pity like that. _I’m sure he wants to be over all that just as much as I do._

“That would explain why you were so tense around her, she was in your line of questioning, wasn’t she?” the large man asked, and Hadvar gave him a small nod. “I am Gnorg, your fellow prisoner, pleased to meet you as well,” he said, offering Inga a handshake. She was a bit intimidated to be shaking such a huge hand, but he actually held hers very gently, probably used to doing so to avoid crushing hands. Having to be in physical contact with someone reminded her of her terrible need for a bath.

“Gnorg, since you were a prisoner too, where did you go to get clean? I could really use to wash this nervous sweat off me.” Inga said, smiling a grinny smile, and Gnorg immediately responded in kind. 

“They do have baths in this inn, and since you’ve got nothing of value on you, I’ll cover the cost of it,” before Inga got her chance to politely object, he continued, “we picked up a few discarded things at the ruins and sold them for a bit of gold, it really is no trouble.” Against that, she didn’t have many arguments, and opted only to thank them both again. Gnorg went up to Orgnar to ask for a bath to be set up, and Hadvar told Inga that once she was done, they could all get something to eat and discuss their situation properly; mostly, what to do next. It sounded like a good plan to her.

A bathtub was moved to her room in the inn and was filled with some room-temperature water; she had insisted that Gnorg not pay extra to have it be hot. Being left alone to wash herself, Inga settled into the cool water just to soak, for a moment, and enjoy the muffled bard’s lute-playing in the main hall. She had thought of doing some self-reflection while bathing, but to her surprise, her mind was rather empty. There were no thoughts that were bothering her, nothing that she felt the need to ponder over, and she found a lot of peace in that kind of quiet. Despite her sociable personality, Inga considered herself an introvert, and she didn’t even realize how much she had longed to be alone like this for a moment, when there was no stress of trying to figure out anything. She could have spent hours there, followed by a nap, but she knew that Hadvar and Gnorg probably had a lot on their minds about what they ought to do next, and Inga wouldn’t want to keep them waiting too long. 

About halfway through her bathing something occurred to her. _I do not have any clean clothes. I actually do not own anything, at all, for that matter. I can’t keep on relying on others like this for small kindnesses, I ought to try and earn some money of my own soon._ Reaching over to her ragged shirt, she smelled it, and immediately recoiled. Anxious humans smell horrible, and that piece of cloth had been thoroughly soaked with every bit of her stress. _Damn._

As if on cue, she heard a very small knock on the door. “Hey, uh, this orc came in and was looking for women’s clothes, but he had no idea what size you are except ‘very small’. I got a few that you could try on when you’re done, would that be alright?” a very pretty woman’s voice called, sounding somewhat embarrassed. Covering herself up a bit by sinking into the soapy water, Inga called back. “Yeah, you can come in and drop them over.”

The door was parted, and quite possibly the single most beautiful woman Inga ever saw came in, avoiding eye-contact with her. “On here?” she asked, tentatively placing a neatly folded bundle of clothes on the bed. “They’re fine there, thank you.” The woman simply nodded back, and quickly head out, making sure to not open the door too much when leaving, either. 

Eager to get to try out the clothes, Inga finished bathing and drying herself up. Looking at the varius bundles, she first pondered if they were all around the same price range. _Damn that man, leaving me thoroughly indebted to him. Orc? I guess he’s not human, though he kind of looks like he would be. Wonder if there are other kinds of people around like that?_ Choosing a very plain-looking belted dress, she was also happy to notice that it fit her quite well, despite her short and stocky build. _Very small, haha. I guess I am as small to him as he is huge to me._ She chose a simple pair of pants and a tunic as her extra pair, figuring that the other clothes she may buy later she would get with her own money. And it was not like she even could hoard a wardrobe right now, being actually homeless. 

Trying to fold the rest into a neat pile again, and not entirely succeeding, she headed out the room, seeing Hadvar and the pretty woman talking. Coming up to the two, she handed the messy pile of clothes to the woman. “I’m sorry, I have no idea how to fold clothes as neatly as you did,” she said, giving a short apologetic laugh, and the woman giggled back, “Haha, it is alright, glad there was something your size there. Honestly, you are a bit smaller than I thought, but the dress doesn’t look at all too long for you.” 

After a bit of smalltalk, Inga learned that the woman’s name was Camilla, and that she lives in this town, named Riverwood, with her overprotective brother, Lucan. Their store had been broken into recently, but only a single trinket had been stolen. Camilla had not known what to really make of it, but it sent her brother into an overbearingness overdrive, and it was a miracle she could take two steps out of the town gates. Their conversation was cut a bit short by her needing to go and close shop with her brother, and Inga and Hadvar both wished her a good night before she slipped out of the inn, exchanging a meaningful gaze with the bard. _They do look like they could make for a nice couple._

Hadvar figured that they should pick a table and wait for Gnorg to get back, so that they can figure out what to do next. Settling in a corner, Inga could feel the stress coming off of Hadvar.

“Are you alright? You seem a bit off,” she said, kind of knowing what it might be about.

“Mhm, can’t say that the events back in Helgen have given me peace, just yet. I do believe in the Empire’s cause, with all my being, but you weren’t on that list. You shouldn’t have had to have anything to do with the execution of dangerous rebels,” he said, barely remembering to breathe, “I’m just… really sorry.”

Giving Hadvar a soft and patient look, and reassuringly looked at him, eye to eye, as pure equals with no malice between them. “It is alright, I forgive you. I’m a follower of commands and rules too, I know I wouldn’t have acted any different if I were out up in your shoes,” looking down the edge of the table for a moment, she could physically feel the painful things resurfacing from the depths of her mind, “really, that was the single most terrifying thing I have ever been through. By now it already feels like it all happened an eternity ago, and my memory is a tad fuzzy, but I came to a very important realization there. That I do not want to be like that anymore, and I actually can strive to be more assertive of my right to live and die in my own terms, rather than simply being brought to slaughter, you know?” Hadvar was obviously a bit hurt by her implication that he was there simply following orders and not acting as an individual, but he didn’t find it in himself to disagree either. Seeing in his eyes that his pride was slightly damaged, Inga quickly sought to bring the mood up. “Honestly, these are the kinds of life lessons one should try to learn before they’re about to have their head chopped off, but what can you do?” she laughed an honest, open laugh, and Hadvar eased too, chuckling a little.

Moments later Gnorg showed up too, clearly tired but upon seeing his group of friends, still managing to pull off a modest cheery look. Settling up to sit with others, Inga asked what he had been up to. “Heard that there were some bandit troubles near the roads, I went and took care of it. Just barely had time to barge into the Riverwood Trader before they closed shop to sell some of the loot I got and pay for those clothes of yours. I can see that you chose the cheapest from the bunch,” he said, and while Inga was embarrassed that she had been seen through like that, he tapped her on the shoulder and continued, “Hey, it’s good that you’re responsible with other people’s money, and don’t worry, you don’t owe me a thing. I made a good bit of coin off of that bandit haul, we can call all that a favor and leave it there.”

Ordering food for everyone at the table, Inga and Hadvar gave him their thanks, and after calming down from a few minutes of ravenous digging into their meals, Hadvar spoke. “So, what are we to do, from here? I know I need to be heading back to Solitude, to report about the events in Helgen, but you two do not seem to have any obligations. What will you do?”

Gnorg, trying to quickly chew and swallow a mouthful of pork roast, raised his finger, trying to get to say his piece. “I have talked around town today, and I do have something for me and Inga to do. There was a break-in at the Riverwood Trader, so I’ll be heading out to Bleak Falls Barrow first thing tomorrow to see about it. Relating to this dragon situation though, one of us should head over to Winterhold to inform the Jarl about what happened to Helgen. The roads are relatively safe, Inga should be able to make that trip just fine.” Getting back to his meal, Hadvar pondered over this arrangement, and looked at Inga. “I do agree that this way, we can all get something useful done. Does this sound good to you, Inga?”

“Sounds good to me, though I have no idea where Whiterun is. Suppose there are some road signs I can read?” Gnorg chuckled at her cluelessness, but Hadvar was more severe. “... Are there other things like that that you cannot remember? You seemed to be doing fine, but we didn’t take into account if that hit you had to your head would have done some damage like that… Now that I think about it, you did also mention that your memory of the events at Helgen were smudgy too. Are you sure it is okay we send you there, if you do not fully remember what has happened?” _Oh shit, he’s right. It is one thing that I can blame my lack of understanding of my surroundings to my head being almost cracked open, but if I can’t deliver this message, I’ll be absolutely useless… again..._ Gnorg, already finished with his meal, tapped Hadvar on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll brief her on all of it tonight, so she’ll have no trouble.” Inga eagerly nodded to that proposal, and the rest of the evening, they simply talked, finding ease in each other’s presence, before calling it a night.

* * *

_What a pity for an immortal being to have Mundus, let alone Nirn, as their home._

Tearing Kroahzidyol’s protective chest scales off and tossing them to the side, the Champion of Boethiah took his time studying this dragon, kin to his true prey. The dragon’s screeches could be heard all across Eastmarch, but none would wish to investigate the source of such sounds.

And none of its kind came to its rescue either.

So far, he had come to the conclusion that dragons were highly magical creatures, their blood well suited to quench his thirst and fill his flasks too. Studying his prey’s wings, by taking them apart, he had figured that the creature was altogether far too heavy to fly on its own. Magic was at play there as well. Their legs, despite being armed with massive claws, had no other use but to stand. The legs flailed and tried to kick his gut open or tear his head off, but severing the main muscles and tendons rendered them useless. 

_Any of the Kyn would have, a long while ago, opted to take their own life and flee back to their home Plane while they still could. What a flawed design; their soul sticks to the flesh it has been given, to the only shelter it has, and cannot abandon it._

But he had to give credit where it was due; the dragon never once begged. It was proud, even when it had no place for such arrogance. More than that, it had taunted him initially, even revealed its name. This struck him as absurd; for a being whose power is derived from the words they speak, their very names imbued with the same power, one would assume such might to be wielded with greater grace and care.

_It thought it had won before we even engaged one another._

Having finished with the final scales left on the dragon’s belly, its sensitive underflesh bared to the cool night air, he took note of the locations of the major arteries before cutting them cleanly open, letting the dragon finally fall silent. 

He sat down on a stone and waited, for close to an hour. Listening to the flow of the White River, the wolves howling somewhere in the distance, and a variety of other nightly sounds, it all reminded him of how alien Nirn was.

The dragon’s soul never emerged, he couldn’t feel its presence change, it was still there, in its body.

_Mhm._

Looking at the massive body of the dragon, he pondered for a moment. Would he have the time to try to take it into so many pieces that its soul could no longer be hosted there? Realistically, he knew he couldn’t afford to spend his time in such a way; his mistress had insisted that the had to find a Dragonborn, as only they could truly kill a dragon. He knew that a Dragonborn was a mortal with a dragon’s soul, which made them the only ones truly able to kill dragons, but he was not given any insight into why or how.

He would have to see it for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gnorg here is actually the very first real Dragonborn character I made, and still the only one with whom I have finished the main story.


	3. Dragonborn Rising

Saying their farewells for now, Inga, Gnorg and Hadvar all went their separate ways; Inga towards the city of Whiterun, Gnorg towards the old ruins of Bleak Falls Barrow, and Hadvar heading for an Imperial camp somewhere in Falkreath, to the South. The weather was rather pleasant, and Inga was more than ready to head on the mission of her own. Only slightly worried over getting lost, Hadvar had made it very clear that if she stuck to the road and only turned when a signpost recommended it, she would have no trouble getting there.

On her way, she saw a handful of things that especially drew her attention: a really cute bunny that ran away just as she saw it, a dead wolf with some arrows sticking out of it, and a small band of Imperial foot-soldiers, whom she tried to approach about the whole Helgen deal, until she was quickly told to mind her own business and not to come closer. The Imperials had a prisoner with them, presumably a Stormcloak. When she had been utterly oblivious to the civil war, Hadvar had quickly briefed her on the matter. She didn’t feel much about either side, and knew full well that she would do her damndest to dodge all of it, if possible.

Eventually, a good, full view of the fields around the fortress-like city unfolded before her; and it was beautiful. The scent of the lavender and honeyed smoke made the vista all the more enchanted. Feeling a renewed pep in her step, Inga walked down the rest of the hill, to check up a signpost at the crossroads. Not that she needed to figure out where the city was, as it was very hard to ignore it standing proudly in the landscape. Apparently, if you crossed the stone bridge curving over a river, you would end up in a place called “Riften”. _Wonder what Riften is like, and how far away it would be…_

Heading towards Whiterun, she also got her first look at the local guards, who definitely stood out from everyone else she had seen so far, with their bright yellow chainmail suits and pinecone-like helmets. None of them paid her much mind.

After a while of wondering over her surroundings and the city walls, Inga finally found herself approaching the city gate. The walls standing all around her gave her an immediate sense of safety, causing her to nearly forget what she was there for in the first place.

"Halt! City's closed with the dragons about. Official business only,” a guard at the gate barked at her, approaching her as if ready to push her out if she wasn’t going to leave on her own.

“I was sent to inform the Jarl about the dragon attack on Helgen!” she announced, almost beaming about her personal mission to deliver this message. 

“Hmm, alright. The Jarl’s residence is at the Sky District, the highest-reaching building in city. But we’ll be keeping an eye on you,” he said, turning around to call to the men above the gate to open it.

_Keep an eye on me, why? They clearly know about the dragon attack on Helgen already, why would they be so suspicious of me?_

Hurrying through the gate, she was greeted by the smell of forge smoke, the sound of sales people attracting customers somewhere in the distance and the water flowing directly below her, and the sights of beautiful wooden buildings dotting both sides of the streets. The houses were nothing like in Riverwood, where they were constructed plainly; these were made of light wood, and decorated carefully.

_Oohh, I wish I could settle down here, these are so beautiful! I can already see myself taking walks around the city every day, filling my house with lavender… Maybe get a dog and a husband too while I’m at it…_

Inga had to leave daydreaming for another time though, such as after finishing her crucial mission. She was overplaying its importance, definitely, but something about doing so made her very joyful, made it from a task into a small adventure of its own. It was like the world was unfolding itself to her, and every new thing was a brand new opportunity for an exploration! And not only that, but all the people were brand new to her too, such as Hadvar and Gnorg, whom she already counted as dear friends. 

_This is what I’m supposed to do with my second chance at life._

Making her way through the busy trading street, Inga really wished she had the money to do some shopping; she had enough gold in her pockets for her to afford a small meal for the day, but tomorrow she would go hungry unless she managed to get a job somewhere. A very stressful thought, but she’d deal with it when the time came to do so.

Now, the guard at the gate was not kidding about the Jarl’s residence being raised higher than anything else in the city; Inga’s legs got the most rigorous staircase workout of her entire life, especially when coupled with her walk from Riverhood first thing in the morning. She must have been on her feet for the past 5 hours, and her exciting adventure was finally starting to lose its charm. However, after catching her breath and making herself more presentable for a long second at the front of the Jarl’s place, she quickly explained her case to the guards at the great hall’s doors before making her way in.

Screw having her own place at the lower sections of the city, she would probably pay the Jarl to get to work and bunk here! The hall was absolutely majestic, the ceiling of the building being so high up that she had no idea how such a thing could ever be built, let alone on top of a cliff. Raising the stairs, she saw a long dining table, an inviting fire surrounding it all and oh damn that’s the Jarl himself, isn’t it? Sitting at the other end of the hall on a great throne of his own, quickly glancing her way before focusing on whatever some man was telling him. _I wonder who I have to leave my message to here…_

Inga didn’t have much time to try and figure out what to do with herself, where to wait or who to talk to before a dark woman from beside the Jarl began to approach her. With her _knife_ drawn. Taking a few steps back, intimidated beyond belief, the approaching woman called out: “Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors. Explain yourself!”

Now that the woman was a lot closer, Inga finally managed to really look at her; she had dark grey skin and bright red eyes, making it immensely clear right off the bat that she wasn’t human by any measure. So it was true, there were some other non-human folks around here aside from orcs. Still overcome with trepidation, Inga managed to whimper out.

“I have news about the dragon attack in Helgen…”

“Hmm, that would explain why the guards let you in. Here, the Jarl will want to discuss this with you personally,” she said, turning shoulder to her and returning back to Jarl’s side, Inga following behind her, feeling anxiety rising. _I didn’t think I would be handing this message to him personally, don’t fuck it up now._

Up close, he didn’t seem all that intimidating anymore. A man of high-esteem, no doubt, but there was something very benevolent about him that she couldn’t pinpoint. Inga still felt very small in his presence. Waiting for her turn to get to explain her case, she wasn’t really paying much attention to the politics being discussed. Instead, she was much more curious about the dark woman, but didn’t dare to look much in her direction either, in part because it would be rude, but mostly because she still had her knife out and she didn’t want to do anything at all that might have caused her to want to use it. _That would be some way to get killed again, wouldn’t it? Imagine not even being able to relay a message forward without struggling against death all over again, haha._

Eventually the political talk ended, and the woman approached the Jarl. “She has information about the dragon attack in Helgen.”

“I see, come forward,” he said, and Inga stepped up to face him, curtsied, and explained everything that she could remember, excluding the parts where she nearly died as a war criminal of offences she had never even performed. He was clearly taken aback by her news, and immediately counselled a man name Proventus, the same one he had just been discussing politics with before. The woman, named Irileth as Inga learned, however, quickly stepped in recommending sending guards to secure Riverwood more, as the place wouldn’t stand a chance against a dragon if left alone. A wonderful idea, Inga thought, but this Proventus didn’t seem to agree, and the two were almost yelling over each other.

“Enough! I will not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!” The Jarl called out, breaking the fight apart before it had any chance to escalate, and commanded Irileth to send troops to Riverwood.

“Well done, on delivering this information to me as soon as you did. You have done a service to my hold, and I think a reward is in order,” he said, looking at Proventus expectantly. While Proventus was away, the Jarl continued: “If there are any other survivors around, I would wish to get to meet them as well.” After a moment Proventus was back, with the largest coin purse Inga had ever seen.

“400 gold, for your service,” he said, handing the heavy bag to Inga, who was having a hard time containing her joy over not having to go hungry so quickly after all. “Thank you, thank you.” With this quick exchange, she was out the door, more than ready to get something for lunch.

Eventually Inga found her way to Bannered Mare, a very cozy inn, where she was enjoying some very tasty bread and cheese, resting her legs and trying to figure out what to do next. Gnorg had promised this morning to meet me here when he was done with the Barrows, but who knows how late in the night that’d be. Maybe I should be wandering around town, in case I’d run into him when he gets here? With that, she finished her dinner, and went out, trying to spend a few hours wandering about.

The sun was beginning to set, and Inga was getting very very tired of lazily walking around city, taking long breaks to sit a benches and wonder over her surroundings. She checked Bannered Mare every once in awhile throughout the day, to see if Gnorg had shown up, to no avail. Giving up on the day and getting ready to retreat to some dinner and rest, she was making her way from the main gates towards the Inn, she noticed Irileth with a handful of guards making their way to the gates, fast. Inga didn’t have the guts to stop them and ask what was happening, but she did stop to watch as the group paused at the gates, and Irileth was giving them a speech. 

“Inga, good to see that you made it!”, a friendly voice called from a few meters away. Gnorg was in town after all! And he was wearing an impressive new suit of armor, clanging away as he jogged up to her.

“Hey, Gnorg! I waited all day for you to show up, when did you manage to sneak in? Considering the fact that you sound like a moving kitchen, hah” she said, very excited that her friend was finally here. 

“Hah! I did get in town only about an hour ago, I was guided to the Jarl about all this dragon business. Turns out that I found a “Dragonstone” in the Bleak Falls Barrows, something that the Jarl’s court wizard was in a desperate need of, and so I was treated to this upgrade in suit as well as a court dinner. Quite some welcome, eh?” He said, as jovial as he has always been. Paying a quick glance to Irileth and the guards, his demeanor did change slightly. “You know, a dragon has been sighted attacking the Western Watchtower,” Gnorg said, looking down at Inga, clearly worried.

“Oh, so that is what all this commotion was about… Wait, are you about to go with them?” she asked, quite worried now too. As far as she was concerned, they all made it out of Helgen through nothing but sheer luck, and there is no way they could assume to get as lucky the next time around. Gnorg simply nodded before Irileth cape up to the two.

“You two, come along.” 

“Uh, um, me too?” Inga stammered, looking up to Gnorg in hopes that he might protest with her against this decision. He was taken aback by it as well.

“Lady, I don’t think…”

“I won’t have any protests on this. We couldn’t take the court wizard with us to take notes, so, we will need someone else to study the dragon while we are preoccupied with killing it. Since you were at Helgen too, you get the job,” Irileth commanded, leaving Gnorg to swallow his words and Inga shaking in her shoes. The sensations from that day were all flooding back to her; the heat, the smell of human bodies… Her wrists ached, and looking down at them, she realized that the friction burns from her bounds were still there. _I don’t want to die again, I don’t want to die again, I don’t want to…_

“Let’s not keep the dragon waiting, move out!” Irileth roared, and the guards roared in return, some shakier than others, but inspired nonetheless. Of the soldiers, Gnorg was the least enthusiastic, but followed the housecarl as commanded.

The silence of the hills was unnerving. The fields no longer shone in luscious gold, instead they seemed to have simmered down like a campfire going out. Likewise, Inga’s joy for living had swiftly left her. She was stressfully rubbing her pained wrists, drowned in her own thoughts.

_It’s like I’m bound all over again, except this time, I would be free to run and get away and never to be heard of again. Nothing is holding me here but her command, but why should I follow her to my death. So much for me being in charge of my own life, so much for being independent… I’m just walking down to slaughter all over again. What if I had just taken a turn for Riften instead? Would I have made it here, or would a wolf or something have gotten me on the way? Why am I this damn helpless…?_

Her spiraling thoughts were brought to an end by Irileeth commanding them all to halt. There it was, the burning watchtower. It smelled just like the dragon attack before, and Inga didn’t need to see bodies to know that people had died here. 

“No sight of the dragon so far, but we must tread carefully regardless. You, stay further back from the tower, and keep your eyes open,” she told Inga, who only nodded, close to vomiting on the spot out of sheer stress, vaguely hoping that the dragon had had its fill with ravaging this spot and had gone off to somewhere else instead. As Inga remained on spot, the others, Gnorg included, went ahead to investigate the tower. Just as they were about to enter the tower itself, a guard emerged, yelling about leaving, as the dragon was still about. As if on cue, Inga could see something huge move in the clouds, and it was the nerve-shattering roar that confirmed it; the dragon was back, and along with it, all of Inga’s pent up stress was released and replaced by unbearable fear. Lowering herself to hide behind the stone and closing her eyes, she could hear Irileth’s calls to combat, the men’s roars and the massive flaps of the beast’s wings above them all. 

To her surprise, she could hear the dragon being hurt. She opened her eyes and looked up over the stone she was behind, seeing Irileth cast bolts of lightning out of her hands at the dragon, while the soldiers rained arrows upon it. We are winning! Inga’s fear was immediately turned to confidence in the soldier’s ability, and she was hell-bent on doing her job right too. _We are winning, and if I pay attention properly now, I’m helping! I’ll be credit to the team!_

Her confidence was shattered near instantly, however, by the dragon unleashing a hellish flame upon one of the guards. His screams through the fire died out quick, and he collapsed on the ground, deceased on the spot. Soon after, the dragon landed, and immediately snatched the nearest guard, trashing his body in its jaws, breaking him instantly and swallowing him whole. But Inga watched; she was set on doing her job, and her duty allowed her to sufficiently distance herself from what she was seeing, as if it wasn’t even real. 

_I’m not here to record how to kill a dragon, I’m here to see how it kills us…_

Almost matching the roar of the dragon, Gnorg lunged forward with his warhammer, slamming the dragon right in its back leg, knocking it out of its sockets, earning a suffering screech from the beast as it staggered to regain its composure. Ready to scorch Gnorg to ashes, its attention was instead caught by Irileth who was striking it with thunder from a safer distance. Breathing fire at her, Inga was sure that Irileth was done for, but saw her take cover behind a large stone, seemingly unharmed. 

In the distance, a mighty roar shook the air. Another dragon, approaching the tower from the opposite direction as the previous one. Inga was about to yell out to inform the housecarl about it, but she had noticed it too, and tried to rally her soldiers to be ready for the additional foe. The remaining guards, not willing to die here today, all grouped up against the landed dragon, trying to strike it dead before the other made it to the tower. In doing so, one of the guards went too close the dragon’s face, and was torn to shreds immediately. Doing a quick head count, Inga realized that only Irileth, Gnorg and two guards were still alive. 

Suddenly, Gnorg got on top of the dragon, and began to slam its head in with his massive warhammer, its skull shattering being audible all the way to where Inga was crouched. The dragon collapsed, dead on the spot. Irileth and the men cheered, and suddenly, the dragon’s body burst into flames, corroding away, the flames enveloping Gnorg completely. So caught up in what was happening, people had not noticed the dragon sneaking up on them from above, blasting a massive fireball right where everyone was standing, surrounding the dragon. Inga could see the dead dragon’s bones fly in all directions as Gnorg was knocked over somewhere to the back, Irileth fell behind the stone she used to hide behind before, and at least one guard bore the full impact of the blast, his body flying towards where Inga was hiding, never getting up again.

The dragon landed a bit of a ways away from the group, to see who survived and who didn’t, and for the first time, Inga was noticed. 

Inga didn’t face her death this time around either, and instead, found herself curling up into a ball, closing her eyes and shielding her head behind her knees, waiting for death to claim her once again. No thoughts passing her mind, nothing but darkness once again, and the insufferable anxiety of waiting for one’s death to come. It was like she was at the chopping block all over again.

The shouts of her group all faded out, the trembling of the ground from the steps of the approaching dragon lessened to feeling like nothing at all… All there was was the gentle night breeze, the smell of fire, the cool and wet ground underneath her. 

_I’m going to die._

There was peace in that thought, however. It was like her body was shutting down everything around her to allow her to pass in peace, like some odd mercy from the world itself. She could feel heat in her front, but it was like it was a little ways away, only gently burning her exposed skin. She could feel was the smallest splatter of blood on her exposed ankle and the arms she used to hug herself with. There was no pain.

The snap of a lightning bolt near her and Irileth’s call to arms woke her up from her trance, and suddenly, the world was all there again; the flames, the insufferable heat, the smell of burning bodies, and as another bolt of lightning struck above in front of her, there were several things she recorded in the milliseconds it took her to snap her eyes up:

The ground at her feet was simmering, but the fire hadn’t reached her, something was in the way.

The dragon’s body was burning, but she couldn’t see it properly, something was in the way.

The dragon’s decapitated head was resting to her right, also burning.

She was surrounded by pale flames, the way Gnorg was, but it didn’t hurt.

The thought of Gnorg made her reflexively worry that her friend had taken a hit for her, but the second she looked up, she was met by a pitch black figure, its blazing eyes staring down at her, locking gazes with her and terrifying her to the core. It was not a natural fear, something was really off, much more so than it had ever been with even with the great black dragon at Helgen. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but it felt utterly unnatural. No light from the flames or lightning reflected off of it, it was like she was gazing at a tall void. And the darkness was more encompassing than that, it seemed to suffocate all the air around it, like a mist hanging above a field early in the morning. The flames from the dragon’s body had died out before she had paid any attention to its shape, unable to really see any of it against the starless night sky. Only its piercing, fiery eyes as it seemed to turn around to fully face her. 

“Inga, are you alright?!” Gnorg called as he ran towards her and the pitch black being. Its bright eyes turned away from her to look at Gnorg, its pupils turning thin and sharp like that of a cat, and she could make out two blades in its hands, a fiery glow emanating from them, highlighting intricate detail unlike anything she had ever seen before. Inga turned around and peeked over the stone to look at Gnorg too, who was simultaneously glad to see her and unnerved to see the dark being up closer, stopping in his tracks. His armor was darkened from the flames, and while the readied warhammer looked heavier in his arms than before, he didn’t seem to be hurt. 

“Don’t be a fool, you saw what it did to the dragon!” Irileth called from the back, lightning crackling in her hands. Inga looked back behind her, and saw the decapitated head of the dragon still there, only its skull present whereas the rest of its skeleton laid behind the dark being. 

_It killed the dragon, just like an executioner… With a single hit to the neck…_

The darkness around them all was intensifying, and a black mist began to swirl around the tall void and Inga, enveloping them completely, drowning out the sounds of her friends calling out. She couldn’t breathe in it, and panic began to rise in her mind as she was coughing and desperately trying to draw in a breath, but there was nothing. She looked up to her friends, whom she could barely see anymore. Irileth’s lightning bolts were trying to pierce the shroud of darkness, but it didn’t make it through. As her friends and their calls had all faded out, and Inga collapsed on the ground, unable to even feel the wetness of the ground below her. In moments, she blacked out.

* * * 

His mistress's command was loud and clear.

“Bring her to me, alive.”


End file.
